Monday with Mayhem

  After a week of Boots' parents and baby brother being here visiting, last night the house felt strangely empty just the three of us. 

  Today has been even weirder since Boots went back to work on the garbage truck for the first time in six weeks now that his paternity leave is over and it's just been me and Mayhem. 

  I'm at work today, too.  Started my new job.  After many months of deliberations and prayers, I gave the funeral home my three weeks notice a week and half before Mayhem was born.  It worked out to my advantage he was early, no tearful good-byes on my part because there were no good-byes. 

  I didn't discuss it with anyone until I knew absolutely for sure we could work it out and were going to do it.  It was an easy decision because I knew it's what both Boots and I wanted, but a difficult decision to willingly lose an income.

  It's been hard writing "unemployed" on paperwork I've had to fill out for Mayhem.  The Stay at Home Mom title has been run slap into the ground so I'm going to call myself a "residential life manager."  Doesn't that sound official?  Now I've just got to say it to somebody with a perfectly straight face.

  We had a little adventure today called "jeans shopping" that made me want to pull my hair out because I hate shopping for clothes.  (Thank you, Lord, for giving me a boy.)  What is with the clothes this season?  All the jeans are either neon colors or so blue they're nearly black, neither of which I really like.  Oy, ve.

  I've decided that since I'm not working, since I don't have a "real job" anymore, there is no excuse for me not to exercise every day.  I want to get in shape so maybe I can wear cute clothes.  (Side note: still wearing the same size as I did pre-Mayhem.  Take that!) 

  I pulled the silly Jillian tape out of the top of the closet and after childbirth the pain of working out was cake.  It's like now my body knows what kind of crazy body stuff it can do and if it can't, it won't quit in the face of a little pain.  Then I cut the dog's nails.

  Now, for your viewing pleasure, (why won't they fix this app so pictures don't have to be at the bottom?) I give you some dressing room shots of my extreme displeasure and dorkiness.  So dumb.